


aftermath (the anger of a gentle man)

by thesweetpianowritingdownmylife



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anger, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Caduceus Clay, Resurrection, Spoilers for episode 98
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23070610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesweetpianowritingdownmylife/pseuds/thesweetpianowritingdownmylife
Summary: He walks away from Fjord as soon as he's back to breathing, looks out into the ocean to see if there are more monsters coming.The one who killed him is dead but Caduceus' anger is not done.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Comments: 13
Kudos: 275





	aftermath (the anger of a gentle man)

**Author's Note:**

> Maduceus :3c  
> thanks to the folks at the fjorclay server for inspiration!  
> Also yes I have already written a resurrection fic, no this is not the same scene, yes I might do another one before we get the real deal on Thursday because I am filled with anxiety.

_There are three things all wise men fear:_

_the sea in storm,_

_a night with no moon,_

_and the anger of a gentle man._

-Patrick Rothfuss

* * *

He sees him breathe in, blessedly alive and moving again, and stays only long enough to pump into his chest every scrap of healing magic he has left, until he runs out of spells and the ugly wound is closed. It will scar. There will be a mark of the atrocity that has happened tonight. But Caduceus’ magic doesn’t turn back time, it just fixes what it can. Everything else is aesthetic, and that’s not a concern tonight.

His knee screams at him when he stands up too fast, making way for Beau to tackle Fjord down before he can even lift his torso fully off the ground. Caduceus had never heard someone sound as desperate as Beau did when Fjord fell, not even the enemies they have slain, not a single creature in the throes of death. Beau’s scream had summoned them up in time to avoid a worse fate, and Caduceus is grateful for her agony. He has no words to thank her right now, though, teeth still gritted together and tongue turned to lead in his mouth. He walks away from the recovering bodies, from Fjord hugging Beau and Jester helping Orly up, from Yasha, Veth and Caleb converging on them, anxious to see Fjord alive, to touch him, to feel him breathe. Caduceus has done that already. He needs to put some distance between them, because the animal rage in his chest has not calmed down yet, still wails at him to destroy, to corrupt, to desecrate. He has half a mind to throw himself into the ocean, swim to whatever hidden corner Uk’otoa is hiding in, and tear its multiple eyes out with his bare, bloody fists.

Instead, he walks to the other side of the deck, away from the blood and the joy, and claws the railing with his fingers, trying to stop his hands from shaking. He keeps an eye out, senses sharper than ever on his frayed nerves, and makes sure no other creatures are coming. He wishes some did, so he could obliterate them. He’s out of spell slots but he’s still got teeth.

If any of his companions came to him now, they might get bitten.

They’re too busy cracking jokes and crying their eyes out behind him. He’s crying too, but it barely registers, the rain still falling on the ship punishingly. He can hear the thunder, and the drops of rain, and the roaring of the ocean in the storm, and the voice of Fjord recounting the start of the attack, and an insisting buzzing all around him that seems out of place.

Oh. It’s the beetles. They fly around him, still enraged, looking for a target to devour. He could drop them now, they’re safe, they have taken their vengeance in a way the Nein don’t use that often. Annihilation. And still it feels too little, like their enemies got away too easily, safe in the embrace of the Raven Queen, protected from Caduceus’ wrath. He’s not done with them. They deserve to suffer, they deserve more pain, they…

The buzzing of the beetles grows to a frenzy, startling him out of the spiraling anger. They fly around him in frustrated circles, a quickening whirlwind almost out of his control. He’s scared, for a moment, that they will stop obeying him, that they will take his rage and fly away with it, turning it against his unsuspecting friends. He dismisses them, and the moment they are gone he’s invaded by panic. He’s unprotected now, there’s no wall he can back away into, and his friends are unprotected, too, left vulnerable without his spirit guardians, easy pickings for any abominations that come lurking in the night. He tries to summon them again, trembling fingers almost unable to perform the required motions, but his magic is all but spent. He tries again, futilely, prays for a miracle from Melora, even though he has just betrayed her, interrupting the circle of life just because his friend was dead and it felt like an apocalypse.

A large hand lands on his struggling ones, and it paralyses him. He tries to turn invisible, to no avail. After a second of panic he recognizes Yasha’s hand, Yasha’s arm, Yasha’s face. She looks haggard, like the rest of them, panic and relief having left deep marks on her beautiful face. But she’s calm, a beacon in this storm that suits her nature, and Caduceus clings to the peace that radiates from her.

“They’re all gone,” she reassures him. He doesn’t tell her that there will be others, lurking, that his skin is crawling with the danger past as much as the danger that’s to come. It will not do to scare her. So he nods, and tries for a reassuring smile, but he’s not sure his lips are quite obeying him. They feel too stretched around his teeth. She seems mollified, at least. “We should go back to bed, or we will feel it tomorrow.”

She is correct. They need to sleep, so that Caduceus’ magic can replenish, if Melora is not too mad at his transgression (but would she be? If she had allowed him to do it in the first place?), and he can protect them again. He is ready to wind down, to force himself down from this ledge his emotions are toeing, so he can sleep and be useful again. But then Yasha pulls him in the wrong direction, towards the stairs that lead below, and he jumps out of his grasp as if he has been struck by lightning.

“Don’t touch me!” he yells, and they’re the wrong words, that’s not what he means. She looks hurt but he has no apologies in him. He turns to look at the rest of them, and they’re all looking at him, startled. Fjord is closer than he expected, just a few feet away from him. It’s too much, all of a sudden, it’s too long a distance, and he closes it rapidly, until he’s towering over Fjord, in what must for sure be his personal space, but his friend doesn’t step away. Caduceus wants to touch him again, needs to feel the rise of his chest to make sure it’s still there, longs to squeeze him in his arms to check he is warm and there’s blood pumping through his veins, not dripping out of his chest. But he has enough clarity of mind to know he needs permission for that, so he refrains, hands twitching at his sides.

“Caduceus, everything is fine,” Fjord says in a gentle voice, roughened by the night’s challenges. His night shirt hangs in rags, stained red.

“I have to sleep in your room,” Caduceus declares. “I would have woken up as soon as he came in. I could have stopped it from hurting you.” His voice breaks in the last sentence.

“It’s okay, nothing…”

“YOU HAVE TO LET ME!” he screams. He hears Jester gasp, but he doesn’t care. She won’t stop him. Fjord won’t stop him. He’s going to do it whether he likes it or not, and if he has to stand guard all night to make sure he keeps Fjord safe, so be it. The rage that had simmered to a burning ache has flared up again, and the snarl on his lips is almost unnatural in him.

Fjord’s eyes widen in fear, but he schools his features back to gentleness in less than a second. “I was going to say, nothing would make me feel safer than having you there. I was going to ask you to do just that.”

He could be lying. Caduceus can’t tell, not right now. But he deflates, to the point of almost losing his footing. He stumbles, and Fjord’s arms are there to catch him. He rests his forehead against Fjord’s head. “Okay. Thank you.”

He allows himself to be led this time, staring at the floor to avoid everyone else’s looks. He can deal with them in the morning, when his skin has stopped itching and his hands aren’t shaking. He is still crying.

Fjord closes the door behind them, and points at the bed. “If you even suggest sleeping on the floor, I will cut your hair in your sleep.”

He’s trying to make him laugh, but it falls flat. Caduceus shrugs and lies on the bed, facing the wooden wall and as close to it as possible, shrinking as he tries to make himself as small as possible, even though the bed is big enough to fit two people comfortably. He feels Fjord getting in behind him, lying close to him, and then placing a hand on Caduceus’ arm. He caresses him, up and down, and doesn’t say a word. Caduceus’ is still taut as a bow, and the contact almost hurts, grating against his fur.

“I’m fine,” Caduceus spits out with the last glowing embers of his anger. He gentles his tone as the hand stills. “You just died, you need to rest.”

The hand resumes its movement. “I want to take care of you,” Fjord whispers, and it’s almost a whine, a far cry from the levity he had displayed a moment ago.

“Don’t.” Caduceus swallows a sob. He closes his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep. His heart pulses with too many emotions, too complicated to name them. He might start screaming if Fjord prods too hard. “I really can’t talk right now.”

“That’s okay. But can I come closer?”

His voice is wavering, like he’s close to tears himself. Caduceus doesn’t feel up to comforting him. But he can allow him to come closer, if that’s what he needs. He nods.

Fjord passes one arm under his neck and the other around his waist, hugging him close from behind. He is not tall enough to tuck his knees behind Caduceus’ legs, but the presence behind him is immensely comforting anyway. Caduceus distantly thinks that the scar from Jourrael’s stab and Fjord’s new one must be aligned, now, separated only by Caduceus’ shirt. Then Fjord breathes behind his neck and his train of thought is derailed completely.

He starts to truly relax for the first time since he woke up.

“I love you,” he mutters. It’s funny, how the words he has been keeping close to his chest for so long can come out now, unprompted, spilling into the stillness of the captain’s quarters.

“I love you too,” Fjord replies without missing a beat, and Caduceus thinks Fjord must have misunderstood.

“No, I mean–”

“I know what you meant,” Fjord interrupts him, voice almost slurring with sleep. “I love you too, Caduceus. Go to sleep. We can sort it out in the morning.”

Now that he’s warm and held, sleep starts to pull him down, too. He doesn’t resist it. He’s too empty for any further thought.


End file.
